Space Hippo – An Exercise in Flash Fiction

I dug my feet into the spurs, launching up from my saddle and strained to see over the head of my Venus hippopotamus as we held a close third place; we soared up the galactic rollercoaster’s rise.  Then we dropped.  My stomach bounced up into my throat as we fell into a steep turn, losing ground.  Space creatures snorted as they passed, their riders sneering. 

If we lost, I would return to my father’s planet and follow his arrangement for me to marry the smelliest bachelor in the solar system. 

I kicked and yelled, my hippo bellowing, but the Mars speed giraffe passed us, the rider thumbing his nose.  We fell into last place.  I saw the face of my husband to be, all nose hair and crooked teeth, and shivered.

Suddenly a cloud of dust blurred my vision, as we passed through it, I saw the lead had fallen, crushing its rider.  Suddenly there were six of us left in the Milky Way’s most dangerous space-race. We rose a steep incline, gaining a spot, my hippo stronger uphill, then descended, the speed giraffe on our heels, then to the left, passing through another dust cloud and as we emerged, I strained my neck looking backwards to see the fallen remnants of riders two and four from a collision.  Suddenly we were second to last of four.  The hardest part of the course lay ahead, hurdles, the hurdles I crawled over in primary school, that skill taking me through finishing school on full scholarship.  My father’s temples had turned gray by the time I came home.  My rest from sport and school was short lived; he began to plan my betrothal.

My hippo turned to me and smiled as we soared over the final hurdle but it was a foolish move as the steed in front of us fell.  In a split second we flew into the air again, clearing the falling rider but landing with a tell-tale crunch.  Unsteady only for a moment, my steed flew on, a credit to her temperament and breed, snorting, foam flying from her lips.

I turned to look back as we approached a dead heat finish.  Only the giraffe passed the hurdles but would never catch up with us as we entered the final stage of the race and dove into the ice-cold water. I snapped my helmet closed as my steed dove.  Underwater, her strained ankle forgotten, she bit the creature to our right, who bellowed, sucking in water and emerged sputtering from depths, disqualifying them.

We emerged from the pool as I opened my visor. The finish line appeared as the golden stands rose around us, as we broke the tape, my steed panting, collapsing, I rolled off but was immediately caught up in the rush of winning gamblers and race enthusiasts.  Over their heads I saw the silver temples of my father, the somber suit, and the hands politely at his sides.

He was smiling.

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